"Illusion is primarily based on reality, it's based on the fact of desire, fear, experience and journey of countless humans"
"…and that is why your performance was nothing short of extraordinary,"
Mr. Vanaheim's voice was a low, resonant tone, cutting through the sterile quiet of his office. The man sat behind a desk of polished neowood, one of a stark contrast to the web of glowing data-streams projected in the air around him. The office itself was a study in this dichotomy. On one wall hung ancient, hand-drawn star charts of forgotten constellations, their parchment yellowed with age. Beside them, a polished obsidian panel displayed the Nexus Station's real-time energy schematics in fluctuating sapphire light.
Vanaheim, a man whose intellect was as augmented as his body, gestured with a human hand while one of the four bionic arms extending from his spinal harness deftly manipulated a holographic interface, its metallic digits dancing through the light. "To face a manifestation of the Oblivion Hive with no formal training and not only survive, but actively push it back… it's a feat worthy of the Imperial Guard's finest."
The Voidwalker stood beside Dr. Xypha, the raw energy of the battle still thrumming beneath his skin. He felt like a relic himself in this room, a man out of time trying to comprehend a future he'd never asked for. "I just… did what was necessary."
Xypha gave a playful nudge with her elbow. "A little modest, aren't we? 'Necessary' doesn't quite cover vaporising a dozen Living Darkness entities with a pair of Meteorite blasters you'd held for all of five minutes."
Vanaheim's expression remained serious, his gaze sharp and analytical. "Precisely. That raw potential is why I've received a direct request from the God Emperor himself." He folded his organic hands on the desk. "He believes, and I concur, that you are a significant asset. But raw talent is unrefined. In the face of future threats, it needs to be honed into a weapon. We need to train you."
The Voidwalker's brow furrowed. "Train me? Here? The station is still recovering."
"Not here," Vanaheim corrected, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "In a place far safer, and infinitely more malleable. We will be using the Kyverse."
Xypha's eyes lit up, her professional enthusiasm taking over. "It's our little corner of the metaphysical! A virtual reality simulation created by me, Mr. Vanaheim and the Imperium Intelligence Guild. We plug your consciousness directly into it. Your mind builds the world from its own memories, and we populate it with whatever we need. It's the perfect training ground—all the experience, none of the… you know, actual risk of being devoured by primal Aether energy."
The idea of surrendering his mind to a machine was unsettling, but the memory of the cloying, suffocating presence of the Living Darkness was more so. He was tired of being a passenger in his own life, a man defined by what had been done to him. It was time to define himself by what he could do. He gave a firm nod. "I'll do it."
——
The transition was like a universe unspooling. The physical sensation of the chair in Vanaheim's office, the cool touch of the neuro-link headset, it all dissolved into a low, crystalline void. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, reality re-knitted itself around him.
He stood in a corridor of the Nexus Station. It was perfect in every detail, from the metallic sheen on the floor panels to the soft, ambient glow of the light strips. Yet, it was wrong. The silence was absolute, the air utterly still. It was a perfect photograph of a place, devoid of the life that made it real.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
The voice was Xypha's, but it echoed with a synthesised quality. He turned to see her, but not her. Standing before him was a shimmering cascade of quantum data, a human silhouette made of fractured light and glitched code, the very substance he'd seen her manipulate during the Aetheron attack. It held her shape, her posture, but it was an avatar of pure information.
"Your mind built this from your most recent, potent memories," her Kyverse form explained. "But it's empty. We're about to change that."
Desperately, the shadows in the corridor began to deepen, coalescing into familiar, horrifying shapes. Patches of living darkness, inky abominations of black and dark purple Aether, slithered into existence, their forms unstable and ravenous. In his hands, the solid weight of two 'Meteorite' Blaster Pistols from the Imperial Arsenal materialised, cool and ready.
His first movements were stiff, a clumsy reaction to the simulated threat. He fired, the energy bolts searing through the digital air, but his aim was jerky, his footing uncertain. The phantoms swarmed, their silent screams echoing in his mind. He dodged, stumbled, and fired again, his actions dictated by pure survival instinct.
"Relax your shoulders!" Kyverse-Xypha's voice cut through the chaos. "Don't just react, anticipate. Feel the rhythm of it!"
He took a breath, forcing the tension from his body. He stopped seeing them as a wave of terror and started seeing them as targets, as patterns. A nascent rhythm took hold. His movements smoothed out, his stiff defense transitioning into an aggressive, flowing offense. He wasn't just dodging anymore; he was dashing, creating firing lines, his shots no longer desperate blasts but precise, calculated strikes. The stiff uncertainty was replaced by an economy of motion, a fluid, predatory grace he never knew he possessed.
One by one, the simulated creatures dissolved into static. He stood breathing heavily in the now-empty corridor, the phantom adrenaline coursing through him.
"Now that's more like it," Xypha's avatar pulsed with what he could only interpret as approval. "You're a natural. I think it's time to up the difficulty."
Before he could respond, she raised a glitching hand. The code of the Kyverse warped around them. The remaining shadows in the corridor converged, pulled toward a central point as if by an unseen gravity. They swirled and writhed, melting together into a single, monstrous entity—a behemoth of Living Darkness, ten times the size of the others, its gaping maw a vortex of non-light.
He looked at the towering manifestation of his recent trauma. But where he expected the cold grip of fear that had paralysed him beforehand, a foreign warmth bloomed in his chest: confidence. It was a feeling born not of arrogance, but of competence. He wasn't a victim anymore. He was now a weapon.
He charged. He slid across the floor, pistols blazing, targeting the creature's unstable core. It lashed out with a tendril of pure Aether. He rolled under it, coming up firing, his mind and body finally in perfect, deadly sync. He felt like a warrior. With a final, focused volley, he blasted the creature's core, and the digital leviathan imploded, dissolving into a harmless shower of flickering pixels.
The world dissolved again, and the solid reality of Vanaheim's office snapped back into place. He blinked, the phantom light of the Kyverse fading from his vision. DV-3, Xypha's cubic companion bot, chirped as it detached a final cable from his headset, its screen displaying a cheerful, pixelated smiley face.
"Incredible," Vanaheim's voice was laced with genuine awe. He was looking at a data-slate, displaying the Voidwalker's combat progression metrics. "The learning curve is almost vertical. Dr. Xypha, your methods are as effective as they are unconventional. Excellent work."
Xypha, now very much in her physical form, gave a slight bow. "He's a good student. Just needed the right classroom."
The Voidwalker felt a change within him, a quiet settling of the chaos that had defined his existence since waking. The training was psychological, yes, but its effects were profoundly real. It hadn't just taught him how to fight; it had taught him he could.
A soft chime echoed through the office. One of Vanaheim's bionic arms swiped through the air, and a holographic screen materialised above the desk. Two figures shimmered into view: the regal, scholarly form of Kallus Eldrath, and beside him, his daughter Artemis, her expression keen and intelligent.
"Mr. Vanaheim," Kallus's voice was calm and authoritative. "Our work is complete."
Artemis offered a small, determined smile. "We've finished the preparations. All systems are green."
Kallus's steady gaze found the Voidwalker.
"The Prospect is ready for departure."